4 Pieces

My brother Jonah Lee Brown - Missing you so much baby boy!

My brother Jonah Lee Brown – Missing you so much baby boy!

The Magill Review has 4 pieces of mine here. Thank you to Josh Magill.
*Please be sure to like it on their page as well as mine here, thank you!

Also found out Stepping Stones Magazine had ‘Knowing Silence More Than Love’ here.

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Madness Swirls

This spiral of madness swirls about me.
Wind winds through
Paper thin walls and windows.
Floor boards stand rotting around.
This is home and there is no other.
I have that bottle of 80 year old scotch
Cradled in the cupboard.
You wouldn’t find a crumb to eat,
Minus the commodity canned meat
That i’m still not sure about.

There is no savior here.
My heroes are all dead and gone.
The last thing I believed in was your
Whiskey fueled whispered seductions.
Water passed mouth to mouth
between the dead who remain thirsty.
Promise in its abstractness carries multiple meanings.

To seduce a spirit and make it yours
You must sing to it.
Mockingbird imitates crow.
The way we are nothing and everything,
With as much incendiary power.
We are as terrifying as we are healing
And even more trenchant.
We live in an equation of anger
Where survival plus acceptance
Will equal your defiance,
After everything has been taken from you.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

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Sycophant

We are all broken bits
left over from some end,
doorways leading
to empty rooms.
We run while we wait
for something to move,
everyday a barter of
quench and thirst.
Sycophant you are,
i’m always giving in
to occasions
with too much
in my mouth
to speak.
No space for tongue
or meaning,
no room
for reason & rebuilding.
We are all broken bits
left over from flawed beginnings.
They said we never stood a chance.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

_____________________________________________

Rich Men Know Suffering

Fingers have their own prayers
like expectant mouths and widened eyes;
dreams inside my clinched fist
to prevent their escape.

The starry blizzard will
soon freeze heaven harder
than in the year
that has passed.
In winter some must die,
but nature is just.

I have waited for
something to escape
from beneath the burden
of the lies we tell ourselves.
The hammered talk of consequence
and the ways we learn
to live with stone.

The first slaughter is for victory.
The second for grief twisted like roots.
Because our pain is ancient,
I have not trusted those
who never came back
from the dead.

Stay and mourn the collapsing
of the burning house
from which I flee daily.
Poets change loved ones
more than words,
blanks we fill in
between ourselves and strangers.

This hardening is a way to grieve.
We have known lesser wins and greater losses,
like picking among the charred bones.
Rich men know about suffering,
constructing catastrophe gone blue with cold,
fragile as the surface tension of water.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

________________________________________________

One Set Of Borders

How easily the mind
can switch from one
set of borders
to another.
Raindrops on metal roofs.
Bones that can no longer
hold the skin.
Seasons and distance.
I let you make love to me hard
against the edges
of mountains and towers,
scent of canyons after rain.
There are many ways
of knowing oneself
and together we learned
every way to come undone.
Beyond the body
or bees making honey.
Before we were even thought.
A long string of small extinctions.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

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My friend Amit was published today in Miracle Ezine!! Please read what he had to say about it, and me! lol

http://all-amit-thinks.blogspot.com/2013/04/my-first-publication-in-miracle-e-zine.html